Bodies on the Dance Floor
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Kurt and Sebastian have a ritual on Friday nights for blowing off a little steam. It involves shower sex, dinner with friends, getting high, and sex on the dance floor...sometimes with a little help. (ACITW inspired) Kurtbastian. Kurt H. Sebastian S.


**A/N:** **Okay, so, I actually wrote this a while ago, and it was part of my appropriation of the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts for 2014. I didn't put it up because I was pretty sure I would get crucified for it. It illustrates some things that a lot of people might object to as it pertains to the original ACITW story line. However, I will say that a) it is part of my AU, describing something Kurt and Seb do, while going to college in New York, as a couple, and b) it follows the line of a few things Cacophony was considering - the mention of Kurt possibly wanting to try drugs, as long as it was with Sebastian, as well as a sharing fic with Seb and Julian competing against the AnderBros to see who could turn Kurt on faster. In light of that, anything in this that might seem like Seb "sharing" Kurt, isn't completely unorthodox. Also, this was mostly a thought exercise. I could see Kurt getting to NY and being curious about different things, things that Seb might be at liberty to help him with, and then, after much conversation, doing that.**

 **For anyone that cares, this uses the prompts: ache, balance, cloud, dessert, evening, fall, grace, harmony, imprint, jukebox, kindred, midnight, needle, occasion, please, rent, scarf, twist, uniform, vacation, year, and zigzag.**

Kurt arches his back, balancing on the tips of his toes as he contorts his body in this yogi-enviable position to guide Sebastian where he needs him. Once he finds it – that perfect spot that makes Kurt's toes curl in his shoes, his eyelids flutter shut, and his voice cease to work – he desperately holds on to it, even when he develops a crick in his spine from twisting, an ache in his legs, and a molten burn in his thighs.

He may need to see a chiropractor every day for the next three weeks, spend hours with his portable TENS machine attached to his lower back (which he bought off of Amazon exclusively because of this anyway), but it's worth it.

This is their Friday night tradition - a way to blow off steam when the school week ends. A chance to forget the stress of final exams and final performances; to declare a mini-vacation from internships and work study; for Kurt to hang up his Spotlight Diner uniform, throw on his clubbing clothes, and cut loose in ways he never has before.

After Kurt and Sebastian leave their final afternoon class, they meet up at Sebastian's place to get ready for the evening. They make it a point to shower together. It's their _thing_ , from way back during that summer following their senior year, when they finally got a chance to really open up to one another. They could pretty much end the night there in the shower, worshipping each other. They take turns washing one another's hair, soaping each other's bodies, drawn out kisses in between slowing their progress, but neither one of them gives a shit. Let them be late. The party doesn't start until they show up, anyway. Even as the water becomes ice cold, which should be nearly impossible in an apartment like Sebastian's, Sebastian gets on his knees for Kurt, and Kurt rides the conflicting sensation of hot/cold, hot/cold – Sebastian's hot mouth and the frigid cold water – that carries him via waves to a phenomenal orgasm.

Eventually, they pry themselves apart and get dressed, then they meet up with friends (kindred spirits of Sebastian's more than Kurt's, but they're good people) for dinner. The group switches up whose place they go to each week; this way, each person or couple gets a chance to contribute to the meal, even if they don't have the funds to provide food (they _are_ mostly penniless college kids, after all). But regardless of where they end up, there's always someone passing around a plate of brownies for dessert, tainted with a concoction of marijuana and God knows what else baked into the batter – not enough to become habit forming, just enough to loosen things up.

Make the Friday night light show at their local nightclub a tad more _stimulating_.

Several times, after he had started _dating_ Sebastian, Kurt imagined what it would be like to get high – as long as they did it together. Sebastian is way more experienced when it comes to vices like drugs and alcohol. He had started using way too early in life. It was his way of masking pain. Kurt never faulted him for that. Kurt wanted to broaden his own horizons in a similar manner, still haunted by his failed attempt at being Blaine's _gay bar superstar_. But no matter how Kurt presented it to Sebastian, it seemed to make him uncomfortable.

They talked about it and talked about it. Sebastian told Kurt his concerns, Kurt expressed his wants. Sebastian wasn't objecting because it triggered bad memories. He even admitted that he thought it might be hot to watch Kurt get baked. But he wanted to make sure they played things safe. Kurt wasn't entirely naïve. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he had his boundaries. No needles, for one. And no smoking joints, though he was fine taking a bong hit or two since the smoke filtered through water and wouldn't ruin his singing voice.

Opium and LSD he left open as a possibility, but as for the harder stuff – cocaine, heroin, PCP – absolutely not.

When they got the details ironed out, Sebastian finally agreed to this ritual, and was happy to partake in it with Kurt. It was nice that Kurt was open-minded, and willing to experiment.

But Sebastian didn't need the drugs anymore. He just needed _Kurt_.

The place they go to reminds Kurt of _Scandals,_ solely for the fact that it has an old-school jukebox in the corner. People obsessively plug quarters into it, everyone doing their part to keep the music bumping, though the owner of the place once told Kurt in confidence that the thing doesn't actually work. _He's_ in control of the music. But the extra income keeps the bouncers well paid, and since the bouncers ensure that the homophobes stay outside on the street and don't get into the club, Kurt keeps his mouth shut.

Out on the dance floor, they're mostly hidden by a tide of foam and a thick cover of questionable smoke that clouds the vision of everyone around them. But they don't need to be seen for other dancers to know what they're doing. A lot of them are doing it, too.

 _McKinley High Kurt_ would have never done this. _Blaine's boyfriend Kurt_ (post-Dalton) _might_ have entertained it. And if Kurt was having the New York experience with Blaine, he would have definitely considered it, but most likely never been _allowed_. Blaine was kind of a prude that way. He had no problem getting drunk off wine coolers and beers, but bring up the subject of pot or ecstasy, and he became a walking D.A.R.E. PSA. Kurt would have compromised, of course - which means that he would have given up any desire to try. Kurt realized, in retrospect, that often times _that_ was the definition of _compromise_ in their relationship - Blaine wanting (or not wanting) something, and Kurt giving in.

Like their breakup.

Blaine may have changed his opinion about all of that. Kurt doesn't know. He hasn't spoken to him in a while. And besides, Kurt gave up those labels and their accompanying definitions a long time ago in exchange for this. Liberation. Here on the dance floor, in Sebastian's arms, he's free in a dozen different ways. He's free to let people look and touch as _he_ chooses, free to kiss and be kissed, free to make his own decisions, with the safety net of his boyfriend's protective arms around him. Not necessarily because Kurt _needs_ Sebastian to protect him, but because it's nice to feel safe. Nice to know that someone has his back.

And besides, this wouldn't be anything without Sebastian. Sebastian being with him makes it _everything_.

Sebastian is nowhere near as high as Kurt, but that has nothing to do with his tolerance to drugs or alcohol. Kurt has drunk Sebastian under the table on a number of occasions. But they take turns - this is Kurt's night to succumb, and Sebastian's night to act as guardian.

It's so much more romantic than the two of them getting slobbering drunk, then renting a cab and taking turns vomiting onto the carpet.

Even high, Kurt has the grace of an accomplished dancer, but he prefers what he's doing now - swaying in Sebastian's embrace, barely dancing, more like floating in his boyfriend's arms. Kurt wobbles, takes a misstep, zigzags, and then giggles, which makes Sebastian chuckle behind him.

"What is it, babe?" Sebastian asks, his voice sounding like a movie reel on slow when it hits Kurt's ears.

"Hmm," Kurt giggles again, but with his mouth closed, trapping the sound inside his skull, "I feel like I'm falling."

"Don't worry. I won't let you fall," Sebastian promises.

"It's not a bad thing. I like falling around you, knowing you're here to catch me."

"You're mine," Sebastian says, nuzzling the crook of Kurt's neck. "I'll always be here." He takes a step back when he says it, pulling Kurt slightly away from an overly handsy guy joining in uninvited. "How do you feel?"

Kurt flashes Sebastian a loopy smile. "Hot," he says. "And horny as hell." He titters over the alliteration, repeating the phrase _hot and horny as hell_ a few times over until the words stop making sense.

"Do you want me to fuck you here, Kurt?" Sebastian asks, putting a possessive hand to Kurt's neck and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Where everyone can see?"

"No one can see." Kurt snorts, getting progressively higher off the smoke and the music and the sweat of Sebastian's body pressed against his. Sebastian had pitched his shirt a while ago. He doesn't know where. He doesn't care. He just needed to work on getting Kurt to get rid of his…or, at least, take it off, fold it carefully, put it in a plastic bag, and give it to the bartender to keep an eye on. "And even if they can, who cares? Do you?"

"Nope." Sebastian reaches into the front of Kurt's jeans and palms his cock. "I was just thinking that we might want to consider charging them for the privilege."

Kurt giggles. He can't seem to stop giggling. It's become his default reaction to everything Sebastian, or anyone, says, because everything is so damn funny. Even when the songs change, he giggles. But he also hates that he's giggling so frickin' much because he generally considers anyone who giggles excessively a blithering idiot.

He repeats the words _blithering idiot_ in his head after he thinks them.

He's never really paid attention to them before.

They're funny.

 _Blithering idiot._

They make him giggle.

He rolls his head on his shoulders, one side to the other, the giggles drifting away as Sebastian holds his body steady and strokes him, making him hard, with his own erection pressed to the crack of Kurt's ass. But Kurt's jeans are too tight for him to feel Sebastian's cock…and he absolutely wants to feel it. He needs to feel it. This warm and groggy, bubbly feeling in his body has turned him into a single throbbing nerve, and the addition of Sebastian's cock to that mix, pounding him hard, with the music thumping, vibrating through him, and the salacious stares and smiles of the people around him, would simply be sublime right about now.

"P-please, Sebastian?" Kurt moans, lust thick in his husky voice, snapping his hips forward to speed things along.

"Please what, love?" Sebastian whispers, licking a stripe from Kurt's shoulder, up his neck, tasting him – the shivers and sweat, the cologne and weed and alcohol and _Kurt_.

The more he licks, the more Kurt bends to his mouth, the more layers Sebastian washes away, the more he finds what he's looking for.

 _Kurt_.

"I…I want you to fuck me," Kurt says, the sentence a mad jumble, only making sense to Sebastian since it's exactly what he wants to hear. "I don't…I don't want to wait. I need you…now. Right now."

"Is that _really_ what you want?" Sebastian breathes the question like a breeze across Kurt's throat, and Kurt's knees start to buckle.

"Yes," Kurt says. "Yes…yes, please…yes…"

"Well, if that's what you want, I'll give you what you want." Sebastian teases him, lowering the zip to Kurt's jeans slowly, and Kurt whines with the anticipation of Sebastian taking him here, in full view of everyone and no one.

"Yes," Kurt gasps, that one exclamation the only word left in his vocabulary at present, since it's the only one he needs. It's the only word that will get him what he wants. He's almost far gone as it is without Sebastian even entering his body. Their relationship isn't all about sex. It never has been. Which is probably one of the reasons why Sebastian gives Kurt everything he has, every time he's with him, more so than any other lover in his life.

Sebastian has always been a masterful combination of witty, brilliant socialite, and pure, unadulterated sin.

Some people look at him and see a responsible, young man with a promising future.

Some people look at him and see the total embodiment of sex.

Having a man like that completely and utterly head-over-heels in love with Kurt is, in itself, a powerful seduction.

Kurt's legs are on the verge of giving out, but he doesn't need a chair or the bar to prop up against. There's always a willing body nearby to lend support, provided they're properly compensated. A stunning man with blue velvet lips and spiky white hair dancing nearby is more than happy to help hold Kurt up in exchange for a popper and a chance to make-out with the amorous couple.

Sebastian would never consent to _sharing_ Kurt. But he doesn't see this as sharing.

He sees it as _foreplay_.

"Hold on, babe. Wait for me, for fuck's sake," Sebastian chuckles, struggling to lube up and align his cock with Kurt's body while Kurt gets a head start Frenching their new friend. Kurt moans into the man's mouth when he feels Sebastian's hands shaking. They almost always do, because even though Sebastian can't entirely recall the exact number of men he's been with, Kurt has never just been _any_ man. He's always been _the one_. Entering Kurt's body _is_ completion, being inside him now just as exhilarating as the first time.

Sebastian enters Kurt inch by inch, giving Kurt a moment to adjust in between, to rise up on his toes and locate that one spot that makes everything else in the world evaporate.

And when he does, Sebastian knows, because the shudders that overwhelm his body enter Sebastian's body as well.

"Are you ready for me, babe?" Sebastian mutters, the strain of patience and waiting, the prolongation due to his own teasing, becoming too much for him to bear.

"Yes," Kurt whimpers. "Yes… _please_ …"

Sebastian has edged himself so far toying with Kurt that he's ready to tear down walls with his teeth, but he still doesn't rush, taking his time pulling out, then pushing back in; leaving Kurt's body with nothing but the tip, then filling him completely. That first brush against Kurt's prostate has him toppling full on into the embrace of the man in front of him, but Kurt recovers. The man does, too, and goes back to what he's there for, trading kisses between Kurt and Sebastian, sometimes getting on his knees to have bit of Kurt for himself. Another man joins the fray, taking Kurt's hand and sucking his fingers one by one; then another, lining Kurt's neck with hickeys; and another, opening Kurt's button down to lick lightly over his nipples. With every new addition, Sebastian pauses to ask Kurt if he's still okay, and as long as Kurt says yes, with that look of bliss on his face that says more than his words, Sebastian will let it continue.

There's a sensual harmony to this, getting lost in a rapture not tied to emotion for any person involved, save one, and that's the man with his arms wrapped around him. The man tugging on the scarf that Kurt has tied around his waist, to keep their bodies flush together. The man sliding deep inside him, whispering words of love in his ear, turning orgy into lovemaking. The man who, well past midnight, will take Kurt home, wash off the foam and the smoke and the imprints of other men, the way Kurt washed glitter off of Sebastian once upon a time. Who will put Kurt to bed and kiss every inch of his skin. Who will take ownership of Kurt's body, and make love to him one more time.

Who will lie beside his sated boyfriend and muse over the strange, twisted ways that history sometimes chooses to repeat itself. He'll try to put himself in Kurt's shoes during those times when he purposefully painted Kurt in a corner for his own self-serving amusement, sometimes with no regard for Kurt's feelings whatsoever.

Before he acknowledged to himself, and everyone else, how he truly felt, and stopped (to the best of his abilities) being a remorseless ass.

These are things he should probably feel sorry for, and yet he can't.

Because if all those things that he did, for selfish reasons, or for right ones, ended up with the two of them where they are now, he can't find it inside himself to feel an ounce of regret.


End file.
